Lion's Dance
by xoxcrescentmoonxox
Summary: "Merlin, Ginny! All you have to do is follow me!" Dance lessons were always fun, especially with your favorite enemy. Canon compliant Draco/Ginny, set during the Yule Ball. Oneshot.


_Huge thanks to **StarShinobi**, who beta'd this fic._

_Written for the Numbered Quotes Challenge on HPFC. Mine was the inspiration for the story, (although towards the end, I'm afraid it go a little off track)and reads: _

_Dance lessons were always fun, especially with your favorite enemy. Note the sarcasm._

_-_

"One two and three four, one two and three four, one two—"

"Ouch!" Ginny cried, yanking her shoe from under Neville's foot for what felt like the thousandth time. Neville grimaced apologetically and Ginny sighed as together they started to count again. "One two and three four, one two and three four . . ."

A few feet away, Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Theodore Nott had taken over a table and sat watching the Yule Ball go on around them. Not far into the evening Draco had grown irritated with Pansy, and was now sorely regretting going with her instead of asking one of the Beauxbatons—or even one of the less pretty Durmstrang—girls. At present, he was fairly certain that she'd gone off to the bathroom with Tracey and Daphne to powder their noses, giggle, or something equally ridiculous, meaning he was free from her for the next half hour or so.

"Look over there," Theodore snorted suddenly, nudging Draco in the side. "The Squib and Ms. Weasel are in love."

Snickering, Draco followed Theo's gaze just in time to see Ginny step forward at the same time as Neville, sending the two crashing into each other. "Merlin, even Crabbe's a better dancer than _that_."

Crabbe lifted his face from a large slice of cream cake he was swallowing long enough to thickly mutter, "Wouldn't dance with either of 'em." Over his head, Theodore and Draco shared an eye roll before turning back to the spectacle.

"That's exactly why blood traitors shouldn't be allowed," Theo laughed. "Look at their filthy-filth, besmirching our hallowed floors."

Draco arched one eyebrow. "Are you sure whatever you're drinking is pumpkin juice?"

Theo merely gulped down another swig and leaned in to Draco, murmuring, "You know, I think Crabbe may have been onto something a couple minutes ago."

"Onto what?" Draco rolled his eyes. "His fifth cake?"

"Well, that," Theodore paused, "but, he said he wouldn't dance with either of 'em. Well, I dare _you_ to."

"You have _got _to be joking," Draco said, glancing meaningfully at the couple. "Along with the fact that my poor white gloves might never recover, just imagine the look on my father's face should he find out!"

Theo choked on his drink. "That last bit settles it. You can't back out now."

Sighing loudly, Draco muttered, "It's not like I have anything better to do, but I'll get you back good for this one, Theo." He then sauntered over to the couple, who had managed to obtain a ring of empty space around them on the dance floor crowded with waltzing wizards.

At first they didn't seem to notice him—both were focused on their feet, or rather Neville's, as they counted together, "One two and three four, one two and three four." Awkwardly, they stepped in a circle that ended abruptly when Neville went left and Ginny right. Draco turned once to glare at Theo before striding forwards.

"You're doing it wrong," he drawled to Neville, figuring if he had to dance with one, it could at least be the one with fiery red hair and a slender waist—if, admittedly, a dress that was less decrepit only than her brother's awful lace robes.

Neville, taken aback, drew himself up to full height. "Well, I don't see you doing much dancing at all, Malfoy."

Ignoring him, Draco turned to Ginny. "It's like this," he said shortly, reaching for her hand, but Ginny jerked away.

"What are you on about?" she asked angrily. "And why are you over here?"

Out of the corner of his eye Draco saw Pansy and her friends approaching from the bathrooms, giving him the spark of an idea. "My date won't leave me alone. I figure, I dance with you for thirty seconds, she stays away from me for the rest of the night. Then, I get to go back to my friends, you get to go back to your . . . um, your Longbottom, and we're all happy."

"Not on your life, Malfoy!" Ginny said. "And anyway, I don't see how that benefits either me or Neville."

"Well," Draco said quite reasonably, "Who do you hate more?—me, or Pansy Parkinson?"

"You know, much as I dislike Malfoy," Neville murmured quietly to Ginny as he fixated a rather sharp glare on Malfoy, "I also dislike stepping on your feet every other second. A dance lesson doesn't sound so horrible."

"Then let him give one to you," Ginny snapped. Much as Draco relished the idea of just getting Theo's stupid bet over and done with, he was starting to relish the thought of getting over and done with Ginny as well—this Weasel had spirit; he'd give her that.

More importantly, Pansy was heading his way, and her seeing him dancing with a _guy_ wasn't grounds for her to leave him alone, but grounds for her to tease him mercilessly. So, gritting his teeth and sighing to Salazar, Draco asked, "Please, just for a minute or so? Even Longbottom thinks it'd be a good idea."

Neville snorted slightly as Ginny at last flounced forward. "Fine," she said, "teach me how to waltz right."

"First of all," Draco replied, "there's no right about it. When in doubt, go _left_."

"Told you!" Neville crowed from the side. Looking slightly happier, he wandered towards the drink table. Meanwhile, Draco turned back to Ginny, holding one of her hands stiffly in his own and placing his other on her waist.

"Merlin, I don't really have to hold you, do I?" Ginny asked, scrunching up her nose.

Draco bit back the many snarky replies that instantly jumped into his mind and instead replied, "Yes. Yes, Weasley, you do."

"If I'm to be dancing with you," she grumbled, "the least you could do it call me by my name."

"Certainly, Ginevra," Draco said with exaggerated propriety. "Now, place your hand around my neck."

He thought she'd protest again, but instead she simply sighed loudly and put her hand on his shoulder—"Close enough," mumbled Draco.

"I'm not going to ask why you know my full name," Ginny said, tossing an escaped curl behind her shoulder. "Can we waltz already?"

Draco rolled his eyes and muttered, "Patience is a virtue, Weas-Ginny." He adjusted her hand on his shoulder, replaced his palm against her waist, and began counting off. "For one, the Wizarding Waltz is _not_ a four beat dance. There are three beats—_one,_ two and three, _one,_ two and three."

"_One,_ two and three," Ginny repeated, huffing a little. Draco nodded approvingly and began to step in the triangle formation. Four times later, and she was still standing stock still.

"_What_?" he asked, exasperated and half thinking that he should have just danced with Longbottom and have done with it.

"Was it Daddy who taught you how to dance?" she asked. Draco prepared to retort sharply, but when he looked at her, she was giggling. Admittedly, the idea of Lucius waltzing around with his long hair and cane was rather comical, even to him, which meant it would be triple that to the Weasel.

"Actually," he replied archly, "it was my _dear _Auntie Bella."

Ginny looked at him for a few seconds, as if trying to read his level of seriousness. At last she asked, "The one in Azkaban?"

"Mm-hm," he replied, straight faced. As soon as Ginny burst out laughing, however, he joined her. It was a moment before they both realized they'd been in each other's company for several minutes without, in Ginny's case at least, dancing a step. By now, Theo was staring at Draco curiously, and even Crabbe and Goyle were looking a little mystified. Pansy was nowhere to be seen. It was, Draco decided, time to get serious.

"Like this," he said, straightening up and raising their clasped hands to midriff level. "Now, do the opposite of me." Draco stepped backwards. Ginny did too, and their hands jerked apart.

"Merlin, Weasel!" he cried. "Sorry, I mean, Merlin, Ginny! Do the _opposite_. I go back, you go forwards. I go left, you go right. All you have to do is follow me. Pretend you're stuck to me like paste, and . . . and can't . . . let . . . go." Towards the end he trailed off, unsure why, but slightly embarrassed. "No wonder you and Longbottom were so unsuccessful," Draco muttered, gruff to cover up his unease. "If this is how you dance, I can only imagine how he does."

Again, Ginny laughed. "Let's just say, together we're hopeless."

"I can only imagine," Draco replied dryly, beginning to step in the waltz pattern again. "Ginny," he pointed out, "the longer I have to wait for you to dance, the longer it is that you'll have to be with me."

"Oh." Ginny synchronized her feet with his, "right. Lead on, then."

At last, they danced; roughly at first, with many cut off curses from Ginny and several winces from Draco, but slowly their steps grew smoother and Ginny more assured.

"Hey, this isn't so hard!" Ginny said surprised. Draco bit back a laugh.

"Amazing what a good teacher can do for one's feet," he said, upturning his nose purposefully. Ginny simply snorted and tugged on the edge of his dress robes' high black collar, causing it to sag and dangle to one side.

"That was for sarcasm," she told him, "and because that thing made you look like a prat."

"Like you've never been sarcastic before," he replied, "and you've probably looked like a prat before too. But if it makes you happy . . ." Draco pulled the offending collar away from his neckline and muttered a Banishing spell. "Better?"

"Much," she replied with a satisfied smile. "You know, you're not so bad when there's no Crabbe, Goyle, or Ron around. And—ooh, sorry! Are you okay?"

"I'll mend." Draco rubbed his shin, glaring at her without much heart. "Pity, you were doing so well."

"Yeah, well . . . if that's the worst I can do to you, Neville will be happy. Now, if only I could get him up to a similar record."

"Weasley, no matter how much I enjoyed our little lesson, I will _not_ do a repeat with Longbottom."

"Back to the last names?" she asked. "But, then, you did just say you enjoyed this, so I guess the two cancel each other out."

Draco rolled his eyes at her. "All right. Ginny, although I tolerated these last few minutes, I will _not _do a repeat with Neville."

"You'll be glad to hear I wasn't going to ask you to," she replied primly. "I thought I would teach Neville."

"Oh, good idea," Draco snorted. "You have two left feet—two right feet, actually, no sense of direction, horribly sharp heels, and . . . and . . ." He looked Ginny in the eyes, suddenly caught in their depths.

"And?" He couldn't tell if he'd imagined the switch in her tone or not; but suddenly her face was softer. Not the face of a bantering, sarcastic, spoiled youngest child, not to mention a person he disapproved of on principle. For a moment she didn't look like Ginny the Weasel, but like Pansy Parkinson after a heady snogging session; a flushed, happy _girl_.

"And—well, you're nothing like your brothers," he replied, stating the first thing that came to mind.

"I should hope not!" she said, taken aback as her cheeks went rosier. "Most of the time they've got the intelligence of the average baboon, not to mention that they're all boys! I most definitely am not."

Draco smiled. "Well, even if they weren't boys, and were the loveliest girls you've ever met, they certainly wouldn't be here dancing with me in the middle of the Yule Ball."

Ginny blinked, looking around as if realizing for the first time that she and Draco were, in fact, spending time together in public. "No," she said, "no, I suppose not, and they definitely wouldn't do…wouldn't do. . ."

She moved slowly towards Draco, pausing when her dress just brushed his robes and her face was only inches from his. "Never mind," she began to mumble, taking hold of her senses as she started to step away. However, Draco had followed her sarcasm, jokes and wit for the past quarter hour, and he'd be damned if he would follow her again this time; or rather, not follow her.

"Do this?" he asked, grabbing her face in his two hands. Ignoring her gasp, he bent down and kissed her, pulled back, met her startled gaze for a minute, then crushed his lips to her's again. This time she responded, running one hand through his hair and looping the other closer around his neck. Kissing Ginny was nothing like kissing Pansy, Tracey, or that Ravenclaw he'd gone into the closet with once. Kissing Ginny, he didn't feel like he had complete charge of the situation, and that was, if not an entirely welcome feeling, at least a refreshing one.

Slowly they drew away from each other, neither able to meet the other's eyes.

"That was . . . unexpected," Ginny murmured, running her tongue along the bottom of her teeth.

"Yeah," Draco agreed, straightening the front of his robes and trying avoid the astonished looks from all the people in their immediate vicinity. He hoped to Merlin that they didn't spread it all over the school.

Nonetheless, a larger problem came from the tables where Crabbe and Goyle were still sitting. Although he and Ginny had been out of their view for a while, Theo was coming towards them now, clapping, with a broad grin on his face.

"Bravo, Draco," he called as he got closer. "You took our dare further than I would have thought you would, but I certainly did enjoy that view I got of your tongue in the Weasel's throat."

Ginny spun around; first to Nott, then to Draco, eyes blazing and completely devoid of any of their earlier warmth. "Wha—Draco?" Something settled in her mind, and she glared stonily at him. "I can't believe you, _Malfoy_. Here I thought you were just so disgusted by me and Neville's dancing that you wanted to make it better so it wouldn't be such an eyesore to Your Lordship, and that somehow we'd managed to find some sort of common ground, but . . . Oh, I shouldn't be surprised. Lions can never trust snakes. I should have remembered that."

"Ginny, it's not like that!" Draco protested, glaring daggers at Theo. "The dare was to dance with you! Everything else was because . . ." He looked from his dorm mate to the blood traitor. "Because teaching you was fun."

Theo laughed. "That's just pathetic, Malfoy. But then, I suppose I shouldn't be so surprised. After all, once a ferret, always a ferret—and that's about right to mate with a weasel, isn't it?"

Draco's face burned as he remembered Moody's punishment earlier in the year; seeing that, Ginny laughed coldly.

"You know," she hissed, "I want to do like Hermione and slap you across the face; you deserve it, but your friend there would enjoy it too much, and I'm sure that the rest of Slytherin would too. So, I'm just going to do _this_ instead." Ginny picked her skirts and turned on her heel, hair flying around her slender form as she retreated through the crowd. Draco watched her go for a moment, then turned to Theodore again.

"You," he growled, stepping towards the larger boy. An incredulous grin spread across Nott's face.

"You liked that," he said, taunting. "You kissed a blood traitor, and you liked it."

"She was a challenge," Draco retorted. "Nothing more."

"That's bull," Theodore replied, still smiling like a cat that swallowed a canary. "Oh, that's rich! I dared you, giving you a great Gryffindor story to pass around the common room, but instead _I _get an even better one."

Draco's lips curled in a half snarl, and it was that image; a snarl, like a tiger, like a _lion_, that returned him to his senses. "Well," he drawled, putting on a bored tone, "if you want to see if anyone will believe you, go ahead, but Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley? As if. It was only your childish dare that made me do it at all."

After all, Draco was a snake. Ginny was a lion, and he was a snake. He told himself that as Theodore at last stalked away. Lions could confront people openly. Lions could laugh and step on other's feet and complain about everything, because in the end they'd pick up their skirts and flounce away, as forceful as when they first came to you. But snakes lived in the shadows. Snakes chose their battles; snakes stuck to their oldest friend first.

Snakes could follow a lion's dance. Hell, snakes could _make_ lions dance, but when it came down to it, when the lion bared her fangs, the snake would slither for cover, evading any risky challenge.

And Draco was nothing, if not a snake.

* * *

**Wow. I cannot believe I actaully wrote a Draco/Ginny. Like I said in the summary, this is canon _compliant, _but not really canon plausible. Mostly, what I'm worried about are the characterizations; I'd love to hear your thoughts - on Neville and Theodore as well as Ginny and Draco. Hopefully you enjoyed, and if you didn't, concrit is always desired. Thanks for reading!**


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